What is life if not a lie?
A beautiful fairy tale?
A sunrise on Winter's day?

I look in the mirror
and a devil looks back,
a stone-faced testament to the dead.

As flame licks the boots
and the noose pulls taut
I end this poem with one final thought

What is life if not a lie?
It is loving, laughing, and waiting to die.

Pin the faceless inside the bazaar
with my identity etched by your blood.
Let the world bow beneath the fox-toothed grin
swallow your fears and show pride to the stars
please remove the porcelain mask from the mud
wash it, wear it,  move on from the past's sins.

Allow the citizens to gasp, so awestruck
by the beauty of this strong unity.
Kissing the feet, lepers cured by this strength
The impoverished weeping at their sheer luck.
You show them the potential of humanity
and we are at peace, the joy knows no length

But alas a dream is a dream they say,
so for now in your pocket we remain.

I do not fear death, I fear losing life.
I fear the sparkle fading from your eyes.
I will not return to the velvet grey,
I will nurture, and further grow this flame

I sit here with your hand in mine
as you doze peacefully
and once again I understand
What it means to be in love

Salt the blade and lick the wound
my dear brother I'm joining you soon.
May the willows weep down
and look upon the riverbank
as they see the ******* dirt in my cut
as it mixes with mud
and then mixes with blood
Brother, mother, father, dear.
Do you not understand the words
I'm whispering to you here?
As I stand up upon my cross
looking down at you with
a bullet in my brain.

I don't have anything left to do.
There is nothing left to say.

No, I do not hate Hermione Granger.
The love of my love just brings a sharp ache.
I wept for the loss in my teen-aged brain.
How I wish I'd lived to grow past this pain.

Alas I'm gone, in a sweep of the claws.
My legacy no more than a forgotten flame.
I had so much to offer, so much to give
but I suppose not all tales end in a grin.

I want to wake up with your hands on my scars,
your eyes smoldering their way into my skin.
I want you to slash at my chest,
and let the blood pour onto yours.

I want to ******* die with the wind in my hair
an echo of a song sung once by you
'Weep 'Weep cries the little boy sweeping,
and so too do I as I carry on in the inky blue.

I can feel my skull through the socket of my eyes
How curious it is this skin and bone.
Tell me the secrets of the life you have known.
Or leave my ashes in the memory of your dust.